


Rest your Bones

by theteaisboilingsis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Comfort Later, Death, Falling In Love Again, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, I mean, I mean it's around POA but it doesn't follow Harry, Love, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Non canon compliant, POA, Sad, Sad sad sad, Sirius and Remus reunited, after the war, as i have my theories yk, hp3, it's not an AU but it doesn't follow exactly the canon, slow-burn, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29246223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theteaisboilingsis/pseuds/theteaisboilingsis
Summary: The title is from "My heart is buried in Venice", Ricky Montgomery's song!This is sad, very sad indeed.Remus lived twelve years in hopelessness, getting himself back together slowly, piece by piece. Still, there are some nights he feels he can't go through. This is one of them.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. 1-This fucking bark

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you enjoy this first chapter, the angst is going to get through the roof on the following chapter, this one is mainly sad -- be kind to yourself!  
> Don't hesitate to leave comments and kudos, this is my first published work, but I plan on doing more :)  
> Love y'all

Tired hopeless and numb, this was a bad night for Remus Lupin.

Even twelve years after everything, it was hard on the heart, coming back to an empty home. It did happen when he was still there, obviously, what with the Order, and the fucking war, they barely saw each other in the end. But still, the tiny flat was filled with memories, and futures. Filled to the brim with all these instants, brief moments of grace in all this darkness, and the hope for more that kept them going despite everything. But now, now, that everything had unfolded in front of Remus’ tired eyes, the memories turned into bad dreams, the grace became a haunting feeling – he missed something. His lover turned to the other side, left him for their enemies, left them all really, and killed them all with him. Had he always planned this? Did they spend all those years with a fraud? Impossible – he must have turned against them (against him) after something happened. But "something" happened every day.  
Yes, it was hard on the heart, coming back to the only place that felt like home anymore, except Hogwarts when he was young, and knowing the feeling to be corrupted. Acutely aware of the shadow in the hallway, Remus couldn’t help but hope – maybe he had come back, at last, maybe he had a great explanation, and James and Lily and Peter and Marlene and Dorcas would be alive again?  
Still, the silhouette vanished like every other day, and the flat fell into darkness with the evening, white neon lights annihilating everything. His friends, his brothers were dead. They would never come back and he was left alone, as he always knew would happen. They died because he was too in love and too worried to see the truth, to realize the spy was in their rank and it was his lover. They died because of him, and the bottomless pit in his belly wouldn’t go away but wouldn’t bring them back either. He was condemned to fall apart, impossible to move on – where even to start?  
Promises of love, of forever, exchanged after one too many drinks. Both their hearts empty and angry, they wanted to fight, so young they thought it possible. Their determination used by Dumbledore, stupid and mean Dumbledore. Barely adults, disappearing one after the other, until he was the only one left, and didn’t dare to move, afraid he would crumble into ashes. This bitter wind had taken so much of his life, why wouldn’t it take him, at last?  
A sound outside. A bark.  
 _His bark._  
No. No. He would not go out and check, because he knew it wasn’t him, and checking might just hurt him more. He knew. He knew. He knew.  
 _Bark again._  
No. Some people can’t afford to get their hopes up – the demise would destroy them. Remus was one of them.  
 _Bark again._  
Then, he would like to sleep, and he couldn’t with all this noise.  
 _Bark. Bark. Bark._  
Even if it wasn’t him, it may do good to keep the dog? A stray, surely, but they need love as much as everyone. Could Remus give love to anyone anymore? Not sure. Not sure of anything, except that he would never sleep with this fucking dog.  
It seemed to stop, and for an instant, he hoped. But no, it started again. Closer. Somewhere near his own door. On the fifth floor. Dog on the fifth floor. Dog. In front of his flat door in a no-pet building. Barking. At one in the morning. Shit.  
Getting out of bed, in his old pajama trousers and shirt, cold wood under his bare feet, he shivered his way to the door. Breathed. It wouldn’t be him. No chance. He would only take the dog in so it could sleep here, and him too. Then, tomorrow morning, he would take him to the SPCA, and that would be it.  
He opened the door.  
“Sirius...”


	2. 2- Padfoot to the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escaping from Azkaban is no easy deed, but going from there to London is even worse. Ask Padfoot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovelies! This chapter is from Sirius' POV, I do not plan on alternating regularly, but from time to time it could be interesting, nay?  
> Anyway, this is still a bit sad but not so angsty, beware the following chapters.  
> Love you, be kind to yourselves

The shore, finally. He had swum for hours it seemed, after escaping the Dementors’ watch.  
They would certainly notice very soon that something was wrong with prisoner Black – very wrong indeed. Sirius was exhausted, dripping from head to toe but he knew he had to keep going. He was still hours from the first train station, and even as a dog, he would have to be very careful. Returning to London would be a perilous journey, but what could he do, if not come back to his… to Remus Lupin. The only one who could help him for sure, except Dumbledore (but the old fool he hated so much, with his cold untreatable eyes and his iron will, ready to do anything to achieve his goals, even sending twenty years old children to die). Remus was kind, compassionate, he would understand. He always understood everything first, clever as he was. Surely, he didn’t believe he really was the spy and the cause of the Potters’ death. Heart skipping a beat. Well. It was hard to think about, and his confidence wasn’t so real. After all, at the time he thought Remus maybe was the traitor… Stupid, foolish boy. Of course, it never was him, of course, it was Pettigrew all along – he had changed, became a new person around the end of school, revealed a desire for recognition, which could not be fulfilled as long as James and Sirius were the faces of the opposition, brilliant as they were. He would never have had his chance, stupid rat.  
It is true, around the end, the rumor had it Remus was spying for Voldemort – the Order needed someone to blame for the transmission of information to the other side, and the werewolf was the easiest target. But, but he should have known; who knew Remus better than Sirius? He should have asserted his will and not accept the separate missions. He should have; but there was a spy, unknown, and even though he didn’t want to believe it was his… it was Remus, there was someone, and he never would have believed the traitor to be Peter either. Why would they choose the wrong side, why would anyone prefer the violence and darkness of Voldemort?  
Thinking hurt, but thinking kept him from falling asleep. Thinking. Walking. Tired. Tired, tired, tired. How would Remus look, now, twelve years after they last saw each other? Would more scars pattern his face? How did he go through the moons, alone? Did he still slip some firewhisky in his tea when no-one was looking or had he stop this (as Sirius called it) filthy habit? Was he getting better, more confident than he was when they knew each other? Did he… (this one was hard) Did he still live in their shared flat, the one Sirius bought himself first when he got out of school with Alphard’s inheritance, in muggle London to piss his family off, the one in which Remus joined him a few months later, and in which they lived until the end, considering it so much theirs that he added his name to the propriety act before everything turned to blood and tears?  
There was only one way to find out. Hour after hour, train after train, then tube then bus - he didn’t want to shed light on himself - and there he was. In front of the building. There was light, on the floor of their flat. A good sign, he decided. But then, he could not just barge in and knock on the door, hoping not to find another face.  
Remus would know Padfoot. Remus would know his bark.  
And did he bark.  
Finally, after minutes that stretched into the silence, a silhouette at the window. Him. It was. Him. Heart beating faster, his whole body crumbling in shivers as he was finally sure to see him again – until then, survived the possibility, the horrible, unthinkable idea of death. He blocked it out of his brain, but still. While he was busy basking in relief, someone went out. Using the darkness at his advantage, Padfoot slithered in, not before he grasped a pitiful blanket between his jaws. It was worn down to the rope but still better than appearing naked. Then up the stairs, to the fifth floor, and new bark.  
Someone moved inside the flat.  
Someone walked.  
His limp had accentuated with the years, but it was him.  
Padfoot became Sirius again, enveloped in his blanket.  
The sound of keys, a ray of light.  
This silhouette he knew and loved, weary but there.  
“Sirius…”  
His voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it, don't hesitate to leave a comment or a kudo, it would really mean something to me!  
> See you around :)


	3. 3- Dizzyness and water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There they were. Turns out, this is going to be a bit more difficult than he thought. Ah, well, it could be worse. He could be dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! This chapter doesn't evoke yet the troubling stuff, there is no special content warning, but it ain't happy either, so please be kind to yourself :)

The fucker was there. How did he- no one escaped from Azkaban, it had never happened! _Well, Sirius isn’t everyone_.

And he dared, he _dared_ to look at him like that; like he did when they saw each other every morning and every night; like he did when he was alone deciding that they would all die, like he did when he lied to their face, to _his_ face. He dared. Remus suddenly didn’t feel like existing anymore. This was too much. He killed them all, their brothers and friends, butchered their memories standing there, and he had the audacity to show up and look like _he_ was exhausted – like he was the one to be pitied?

Stars flickered on the outside of Remus’ vision, white and piercing, needles penetrating his brain and suddenly he was on the ground, and his head hurt – must have been the wall. The ceiling, far away, spun fast above him, and the floor underneath his aching back was a quick-sand, darkness growing around him, on the corners of his eyes and then in the middle, and then it was all black.

_All Black. Not that funny_.

When he came back to himself, nothing seemed to spin anymore, and the hated face looked at him from above, seemingly scared. _He is not scared; he cannot be, for if he could, they wouldn’t be dead and I wouldn’t be alone_.

“What the fuck Lupin, you that happy to see me?”

Oh, he shouldn’t have said that, he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself. Seeing Remus like that, all tamed and scared, and angry (so maybe he did think Sirius was the traitor) caved deeper into the hole in his stomach. Was he hurt? Didn’t seem so, he had only been a few seconds in outer-space.

“What. Are you doing here.”

It was not a question, more like a statement that he shouldn’t be here at all, but – it ached to see the hatred in Remus’ eyes. They had once been everything and even more to each other, but there they stood, unknown and scary and scared. Oh, Sirius knew he owed him an explanation, but he had in mind that it could wait, that firstly Remus would be so happy to see him that they would kiss and make passionate love and _then_ they would talk after everything important had already been said, but apparently they were not reading the same script, Remus’ one being far angrier than anticipated. He didn’t count on that, he didn’t even think his once lover would believe the lies the _Daily Prophet_ vomited – they were known for not being reliable, and when he was thrown in prison without so much as a trial, it appeared clearly that there was something wrong, and surely everyone must have noticed that? Except, except as always, people were happy to see an end to their suffering, and quickly swept the remnant of the war under the rug, hoping never to hear from it again – but he did, and somehow what seemed to be a good idea looked very much like his worse possible prank, in the neon light of their once-shared flat.

Forcing him to walk back, Remus stood up quickly, not paying attention to the dizzyness spreading between his eyes, feeling the wall behind him until he found the switch, and turned off the light. Better.

He went to the kitchen. Opened the drawer. Took a glass. Went to the sink. Coldwater in the glass. Coldwater on his hands, on his wrists, cold water staining his sleeves. Uncomfortable feeling of moist against his skin. Running water in his ears. What was going on. What _on earth_ was going on. No more water. A hand on the tap, and another on his own. Sirius, eyes wide and tired, looked at him from behind, slow and sweet in his movements.

Gently, he guided the glass away from his fingers, emptied it a little, and gave it back, allowing him to drink. Remus’ trembling hands didn’t help him, and the ice-cold flow in his throat only grounded him so much. Gently – _why did he have to be gentle_ – Sirius pushed him outside of the kitchen, too small for his lanky frame, and to the living room, where they both sat on the weary chintz sofa. There, Remus finished his drink, and breathed out of his nose, for the first time in what seems to be an eternity. Steadying his voice mentally, not wanting to sound hurt, or touched, or questioning, or anything really, he finally opened his mouth.

“Explain. You gotta explain; can’t expect me to – I thought you – what – explain.”

T his was going to be so much more difficult than Sirius anticipated. A part of his heart was crushed under the sad revelation that yes, Remus did believe all those lies, but now was the time to shed some light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you liked it, tell me your thoughts? Kudos and comments feed me, they really do (well, I still like fries, don't worry).


	4. 4- Far far away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus can't believe what Sirius tries to tell him. But then, it's hard being mad and in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here go my feelings - we starting to get in deep, my dudes. CW for sadness, and sadness and anger, but this is still a pretty short one (I try to post more short chapters, maybe I'll change and post less, longer chapters. Tell me!)

- What do you mean it wasn’t you? It  _was_ you, you were  _seen_ ! Muggles saw you, they testified!  _Remus was trying, he really was – not to believe him, not to think back to their mistakes because it could only be this way, there was no other possibility._

\- They were under a spell, Peter’s spell – I swear, Moony

\- Don’t. Call me that.

_He had to remind him of the old days, to be able to use him, to manipulate his mind. But Remus wouldn’t cave in, no way. He was stronger. Like – like iron. Old and distorted and scarred but strong._

\- I – sorry. I swear, Lupin. It wasn’t me. I could never. It was Peter. He was the traitor since the beginning, around the time we got out of Hogwarts. We saw him less and less, but we thought he was afraid, you remember? We thought he was to busy with his work at the Ministry, and I guess he was, but they didn’t simply offer him a job – I mean, we accepted his explanation, but really Moon-Lupin, who would have taken him, fresh out of school, not in the bests, far from it, to be in the Minister’s cabinet? We should have doubted him.

\- But then, he seemed so proud, Black. He was proud, to have something you and James didn’t, he wouldn’t have been happy to be… To cause.. You know.

_Damn. For years he hadn’t been able to talk about it (and to whom would he talk, even), but recently, in the four last years, he had seemed to get better at it. Recalling their names, their moments, the magic world appeared in his dreams again, not as a nightmare but in a reminiscent fondness. And then, he came in and..._

\- But I would? Lupin,  _he snapped_ , look me in the eyes, and tell me,  _tell me_ I would have been glad to give up on everything and cause the death of my brother, my fucking best friend since forever, and his wife’s, whom  I loved as much as I love you ? Tell me I would have done that, Lupin? It would make more sense if  _you_ were the spy, even!

_ T here. He said it. He loves him. Loved, but still; if twelve years of prison (worse, twelve years of Azkaban) didn’t damage his undying feeling, then nothing would. Ever. _

\-  Oh don’t bother Black. You suspected me. You were supposed to be there, to be by my said forever, nevermind the circumstances but you left me as soon as someone suspected I could be the traitor. You think I didn’t see? You think I didn’t see?!

He was yelling now, he hadn’t since this horrible moment with Dumbledore – but it wasn’t possible to listen to Sirius not admitting his past suppositions, but still suggesting them, like it was nothing, like it hadn’t destructed Remus to understand what he thought. 

Still yelling, tears hot in his eyes, and anger hot in his throat. Being in love felt worse than it ever did, and ever would,  for it wasn’t a possibility for them now.  T oo much had  happened, too many years had decayed between their fingers, ashes to dust to wind to nothing. Their bodies that once felt like they would never be distant, joint by the lips, were now closer than they were in a decade but still, as their minds crumbled, and tears finally drenched Remus’ face, and Sirius’ hands when he held him close and hard, trying to anchor him in reality, still as they loved and hated and kissed and bit and cried and yelled, they perceived how far from each other they were, and ever would be.

T hey still would have to talk, and explanations weren't enough, but for now Remus shut his brain, trying to  _feel_ more than  _think_ . It wasn’t fair, neither to Sirius nor himself, but at the moment it looked like the only solution to their problem, and they would deal with the consequences later. 

After all, under the anger, and hatred, was the undying feeling of belonging, which neither of them had felt in a long time, and that Remus had searched between the arms of some people, but never found – as for Sirius, Azkaban wasn’t the ideal place to find a soulmate replacement. Their bodies hurt, and felt old even though they were barely thirty; the toll of having fought a war as a child. The toll of not dying in this war. Finally, the toll of having kept looking, kept pushing through life until now, this instant that should have smelled like relief but rather reeked of burned passion, a deep aroma floating in the air and coating their lungs, like a dark suffocating chalk they kept inhaling because it still felt better than nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hyia again! Two chapters today, O-hoo, because it's monday and I don't have any work yet (I'll maybe try to post tomorrow, and then Thursday? Who knows). Anyway, tell me how your feelings are, don't hesitate to leave a kudo, it really means the world :) love y'all


	5. 5- The Talk or something like that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They do have to talk because, despite everything, sex won't make up for an honest conversation.  
> This chapter is longer than usual, but I think the length will stay around this from now on. Be kind to yourself, mention of imprisonment, suffering, and death, so there's that.

Sunday morning light peeked on through the curtains onto Sirius’ cheek, waking him up from the slumber he had thrown himself into once they were done, trying not to think too much.

His canine instinct didn’t allow him to sleep in much – once he was aware of his surroundings, he had to get up and do something. He couldn’t, though. What would he do? Go to the bathroom, then prepare breakfast as if nothing had happened and they were still a couple of nineteen-years-old? No, that wouldn’t do. They didn’t get that innocence, this bliss wasn’t for them. Instead of slipping out of the bed, he thought.

Their night hadn’t been sweet and nice like they liked it before; it had been a mess, of fear and anger, blood and spit. Maybe their animal parts had awoken and they communicated better like that, but that didn’t actually solve anything. A hot spot in Sirius’ leg started to hurt a bit now that his senses were fully awake – he remembered their bodies intertwined and the door lintel, just before entering the bedroom. Funny enough, he can fully remember how they used to be aware of their surroundings only to protect each other: Remus always held out a hand, before, to keep him from hurting his back on the lintel. But he didn’t do it last night, and probably would never do it ever again.

Explanations would have to come quickly, they were waiting to catch them, spiders on the wall, thin but deadly – don’t you dare forget us, they said, for we will hunt you into the grave, and even then, we won’t ever let you have peace until everything has been said, every tear has been shed, and every cry has been heard. They would make a lot of noise, for sure, but it would not be a sound as huge as the thoughts they kept in all those years.

Interrupted by a movement by his side, Sirius quickly shut his eyes again, pretending to be asleep. Remus could always sense when he was awake or not, and he surely guessed he was pretending, but if he did, he chose not to pick on it, and moved to the kitchen, not trying to be silent. Fair.

While waiting a few minutes – or what felt like it – before joining Lupin, Black observed his body for the first time in months – years, and saw it for what it was; tired. Old before age, exhausted in what should have been the zenith of his life but rather felt like dusk. He who before gave such importance to his looks now didn’t care; being alive was his main preoccupation. His tattoos, which Remus swore to hate when they were younger, but still kissed ardently now paled compared to the scars stretching from the bottom of his skull to the end of his spine.

“Black, I know you’re awake and I’m not about to make you breakfast, move your ass!”

Count on Lupin to ruin his rare moments of self-pity. Shuffling and shrugging and huffing, he got out of bed and to the kitchen, found his too-tall frame already clothed, when Sirius himself was still in an old t-shirt. Unimpressed, he went straight for the fridge, but was disconcerted finding its order completely disturbed: the eggs were at the milk’s place, and the milk itself was where the wine was supposed to be. The wine didn’t seem to be there, but maybe it was just really nicely hidden beneath the impressive amount of chocolate mousse. So he didn’t change so much, in the end. Choosing two eggs, he opened the pans’ cupboard, but there again things had been moved, and he only found plates. Pretending it was what he was looking for (he would have been, at some point, so it wasn’t even a lie – he didn’t say anything, how could he lie?) Would he have to ask Remus where he could find a pan, in his _own damn flat_? Well, not his flat anymore, but still. Why did the fucker feel the desire to move everything around, if not to anger him, or show him in an honestly ridiculous way that things had changed? Breathing in and out mentally, he resigned himself to ask for help, as unnerving as it was.

“Remus, please. Where could I find a pan?

 _God, I sound like a stranger_.

“God, you should know, you decided where to put them. Please, we even argued about this.”

 _God, I sound like a dick,_ thought Remus. But it was true, and he was slightly hurt that Sirius didn’t remember how they argued for too long about something stupid like that – maybe it was the beginning of the disintegration of everything, even that long ago. It all seemed so futile now, but it was so important to both of them at the time. Finally finding his memories, Sirius took a pan and started to cook his eggs; it felt too close to the domestic bliss they used to experience – but the air was so much heavier now than it was then.

“We need to talk. You know we do” said Remus, unaware of when he had developed such an ability to start what would surely be the worst of their discussion ever to happen. Refusing to look at the other man, he looked away to the window, detailing every little scene in the building facing him. A man was talking to his kid, cleaning the house at the same time. A woman was laughing with her girlfriend, and they looked achingly close to what Marlene and Dorcas would look like by now. A baby was crawling on its bedroom floor, visibly very excited by a red cat. 

A snap brought him back to reality, and he knew that was it. They were going to talk and there was no going back once it was done. Breathing in; breathing out; repeat to keep living.

“I- was it really not you?

\- Ask Dumbledore if you want to, I’m sure he knows.

\- He wouldn’t have let you get emprisoned if he thought you were innocent -

\- Wouldn’t he, though? You know his views, the greater good and all that. Sacrifice for the community. Me being in Azkaban meant I couldn’t defend myself and prove Pettigrew’s guilt, and it haunts me, it fucking haunts me, Remus.

\- I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me. Pettigrew is dead, and I know you think he ain’t, but they buried him! I went to the funeral, I saw his mother, she was  _destroyed_ !

\- We’ve talked abou T this yesterday, Lupin, can we please move?

\- Move on? Move on past the fact that I mourned for a so-called  _spy_ , move on from the fact that I let an innocent man – I let the love of my life live through the worst fate possible for  _nothing_ and you want me to just move on? Has Azkaban reduced the size of your brain?

Sirius sighed internally: there it was. Remus was guilt-tripping himself, he thought himself responsible for the last decade or so of pain, and it felt slightly distressing to know that he could not voice his feelings, for it would damage even more the tiny link they got restored the night before.  _But yes_ , he thought,  _yes I feel like you betrayed me, and let me live an injustice without batting an eye – you usually so prompt to try and make amend, so quick to lick my wounds and help me back on my feet. Maybe you thought it possible of me, and it hurts so fucking much but I can’t tell you that cause you already feel like it and it would only push you further down the rabbit hole you put your head into, and then you’ll be too far from me and we will never be close again. I don’t know how I feel but there’s this pain behind my eyes, anger I think, and tears in my throat_ . But he would never tell him that, of course. Feelings were made to be bottled up and spitted in the sink at night, alone. 

\- Sirius? You’re the one gone, now?

\- No, no sorry. I mean – yes. Well, no, Azkaban hasn’t reduced anything in my brain, but yes you need to move on. I won’t be able to get you on your feet again, Remus… I would love to, but this time I’ll need you to help me. I won’t… I… I can’t do it alone.

G od. Is that how it felt, asking for help? Neck-burning anger and sticky palms?

\-  I will. Get you back. But – but I need time too. Stay, live here but I need to be alone sometimes. I’m gonna go out right now, and I’ll be back in a few hours. I need to think, you know? But, when I’m back, we’ll start everything, I promise. Use the flat, take a bath, I don’t know, live your life.

He was putting on his coat and shoes while talking, and quickly exited the tiny home, almost physically gasping for air, and then in a flicker of wool he was gone, and all was silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I hope you're finer than fine, I made myself cry writing this so I guess that's life :) anyhow, leave kudos, comments if you feel like it, and I'll see you soon!


End file.
